


Absolution

by heavnofhell



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Minor Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-13
Updated: 2016-09-13
Packaged: 2018-08-14 19:15:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8025775
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heavnofhell/pseuds/heavnofhell
Summary: Sam isn't the only one haunted by memories of The Cage.





	Absolution

The air becomes too still. The silence drowns out the sound of Sam’s quiet breathing; his deep, slow draws of oxygen that have so often served as the melody that soothes the ancient aches in the archangel’s heart, are now wrapped up in this heavy quietude. He is  _trapped_ , and he is _motionless_. But he is _struggling_. He is **flailing**. 

This isn’t a nightmare. Archangels _cannot_ dream. If he _could_ , how could the mind _ever_ quantify the eons of experience he had survived? All of that **love** and **pain** and **hope** and **despair** , the **suffering** and **praying** and **need** and **want** … no nightmare could ever be _horrendous_ enough to adequately sort out all of these emotions. **No** : he is  _not_ asleep. The world is not so kind. 

It’s suffocating him. It’s picking up broken memories from the cold floor of his tormented mind, and driving them deeply and ruthlessly into his already scarred and tattered heart. His **perdition** \- later to ( **unfairly** ) become Sam’s, as well. It haunts him more **skillfully** and  **sadistically** than could _any_ phantom of this realm. Night after night, that long-suffered  **damnation** comes to close in around him; to **cage** him, and crush him slowly from the inside. 

There had been **immeasurable** stretches of darkness. Days, weeks, months - _years_ , even - of _nothing_ but an **impenetrable** sheet of blackness. It snuffed out even the **Grace** of the  **Morning Star** , turning into a thick pitch, dripping from the walls, pulling them down and holding them fast to the hard ground. His great, velvety wings, weighed down by the unnatural **heaviness** , crushed the archangel beneath the weight of his own feathers. He  **loathed** it. He would rather the screams and the blood - but he _knew_ he could endure. 

That all changed, after his second fall. **Sam**. He needed to protect Sam. This was not _his_ punishment. The human did not deserve this suffering - he was not created to endure such **excruciating** torture. Lucifer _needed_ to protect him. He needed to soothe his pain with reverent and loving hands, and to chase away his fear with the ethereal voice of the  **Bringer of Light**. For the centuries following his first fall, Sam had been his _only_ hope. Now, it was _Lucifer’s_ turn to be the savior. 

But while Sam was _crying_ for him, whimpering his name in heartbreaking **sobs** of pain, Lucifer was **failing** him. He was _screaming_ and _raging_ , pulling himself forward through the dense and viscid substance, but getting nowhere. Even as his shouts of indignation shifted into cries of sheer agony, the muck ripping out his feathers, and tearing at his  **Grace** , Lucifer continued to struggle. The horrific material had continued to drip down upon him, until it was choking him, stealing away even his voice - stealing away the last bit of reassurance he had been able to offer his other half.

Time was non-existent in the cage, measured only in the breaths between screams. Time spent holding onto Sam was _never_ enough, and time suspended by hooks and impaled by spears, seemed to be _endless_. And so, Lucifer could never know _exactly_ how long it had been since his senses had been robbed from him, and his being had **collapsed** under despair and exhaustion. In the past, the hourglass would have been turned, and he would have been ripped forcefully back into awareness by the white hot pain of this eternal **damnation**. 

But _now_ he had Sam. It was a soft touch that shook him: the gentle brushing against his feathers, still vibrating from the damage dealt - or the timid caress of fingertips against his cheek, fleeting and tender, like the batting of a butterfly’s wings. Cold eyes were drawn slowly open, a trembling hand reaching out and gripping at the hand that hovered just before his line of sight.

The darkness had lifted, and Lucifer could move again. He could sit up, which he did (however slowly - time did not govern him here), he could see Sam’s **uncertain** eyes, and, most importantly, he could speak the words that had been stolen from his lips. 

“ **Sam**.” And as that single syllable brought the human crashing into his arms, Lucifer poured all of his determination into his next statement, rushing from his lips, both a _promise_ and a _prayer_. “ **I’ve got you, kiddo. I’m not going to let you go.** ” 

But that failure haunted him, both in the cage, and now, _topside_ and _free_. Over and over he had been forced to break his own vow, watching as Sam was ripped from his bloody grasp, and denied his fierce protection. His **perdition** has followed him to **paradise**. 

There’s a low humming, and he wonders, idly, if this is the sound of his breaking mind. Maybe, this time, he _won’t_ come back. After _everything_ , perhaps this is how he is meant to lose Sam: the slow crumbling of his own, bloodstained heart, taking him away, and breaking all of his promises. 

His hand touches something, and it cracks through him like **lightening** , having no memory or awareness of ever moving. Lucifer’s head snaps back, his skull slamming into the headboard with a painful **thud** , his sapphire eyes shooting wide open as he stares, bewildered, into the dimly lit space before him. He can hardly begin to comprehend his surroundings before a set of large, warm hands are gripping either side of his face, his gaze shifting to the worry-filled hazel eyes of his other half. 

Sam’s mouth is moving, but there is a ringing in Lucifer’s head, and he stares blankly at the lips, his thoughts heavy and slow, like cold honey. One of Sam’s hands slips from his cheek, landing, instead, on the archangel’s chest, and pressing down firmly. 

“ **Breathe**. **Come on, Lucifer - I’ve got you, now. Just _breathe_.** ” And, just like that, the world comes crashing back down, the lights, however dim they might be, are blinding him, and all he can do to keep his wits (now that he’s got them back) is to stare straight back at Sam’s eyes. He nods once, and he’s breathing, and it’s so, _so much_ harder than he remembers, but he’s doing it ** _for Sam_**. 

When the warm fingers run across his cheek, Lucifer becomes aware of the dampness there, and he furrows his brows in confusion. As Sam pulls him down, cradling his head into the heat of his sleep-warmed neck, the archangel realizes that he’s _crying_. The tears are dripping steadily onto the collar of the hunter’s shirt, and Sam is running his hand tenderly across the fresh bump on the back of Lucifer’s head, his other arm wrapped firmly across the angel’s back. 

“ **I should have tried _harder_. I could have reached you.** ” As the angel's voice cracks, Sam’s steady movements slow to a stop, and Lucifer can feel his pulse quickening beneath the soft flesh, but he continues on, his voice a shuddering whisper. “ **Forgive me. You were _so afraid_ … and I failed you.**” 

“ **Never.** ” The word falls from Sam’s lips without hesitation, and he’s drawing back, tilting his head to get a clear look at the archangel’s face.  **“Never - not _once_ , have you _ever_ failed me, Lucifer.**” There are tears on the _hunter’s_ face now, and Lucifer reaches up in an _impulsive_ and _natural_ motion, his thumb running gently across Sam’s cheek. Before he can draw it back, the man’s warm hand is gripping his own, pulling it to his mouth, and kissing his knuckles with trembling lips. 

“ **You saved me, a thousand times over, and there is _nothing_ to forgive.**” He whispers the words against the pale flesh of the archangel’s fingers, before his bright eyes slide back up to meet Lucifer’s heartbreaking stare, and he offers him a sad, but hopeful smile. A beat passes, and then the angel is pushing forward again, wrapping his arms around Sam’s body, and holding him as tightly as he had longed to hold him in those torturous moments of their past. 

“ **You saved me _first_ , kiddo.**” He turns his head, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to Sam’s temple, his lips brushing the skin as he speaks in a hushed voice. “ **You continue to save me, _every single day,_ and I _never_ want to let you go.**” 

“ **Then don’t.** ” Sam shifts slightly, turning to offer Lucifer a bright smile, before pushing him gently back onto the bed, crawling over him and pressing a soft kiss against his lips. With another smile, he drops his head heavily upon the archangel’s chest, closing his eyes and simply _feeling_ the rise and fall of his steady breathing, his hand resting lightly over the angel’s heart. 

With a small smile, Lucifer looks down at the peaceful face, reaching down and carding his fingers lightly through the chestnut hair. In _this_ moment, with hope flooding back and subduing his previously _wretched_ thoughts, he _knows_ , no matter how **the cage** may haunt and torment him, so long as he has Sam, he _has_ his eternal **Light**. He has his  **absolution**. 


End file.
